


Everything Will Be All Right

by bellalinguista



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alzheimer's Disease, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Wakes & Funerals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2015-05-17
Packaged: 2018-03-31 01:41:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3959650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellalinguista/pseuds/bellalinguista
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sharon returns to her hotel room after the funeral and tries to keep a specific mantra in mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everything Will Be All Right

**Author's Note:**

> Based on spoilers from Captain America: Civil War.

The earliest memory she has of Aunt Peggy was from a holiday dinner abroad when she was still a young, little girl – five years old, tops. It was Christmas Eve, Sharon distinctly remembered: she feared that Santa Claus wouldn’t be able to find her since they weren’t back home in Virginia.

 

She remembered sitting alone at the kids’ table, alone, as alone as she currently was, sitting on the edge of the queen size bed in the quiet room in a hotel in the middle of London. The other children had wandered off into the den to play – she hadn’t been allowed to join them: no babies allowed.

 

But she wasn’t a baby. She was _five_. She was in _kindergarten_. Babies were in _pre-school_.

 

This wasn’t the case, apparently, not with the ‘big kids.’ You weren’t considered big unless you were in the first grade. That earned one of her cousins a punch to the nose (he had also claimed that Santa Claus wasn’t real). In return, Sharon had earned herself a time out, stuck at the table while everyone else enjoyed themselves.

 

She didn’t care; she didn’t need them. _They_ were the babies. Babies cried and her cousin with his bleeding nose had done plenty of that.

 

Sharon didn’t know how long she had sat there at that table, but to a five year old in a very itchy dress, it had felt like an eternity. The adults were still in the dining room, chattering; her parents were among them, catching up with relatives they hadn’t seen in years. They had forgotten about her – all the adults, Sharon concluded.

 

But then one of them snuck away from the formal dining room, disinterested in the conversation at hand, and wandered into the living room for a bit of a breather. Instead, they had found Sharon staring intently at the leftover peas on her plate.

 

Aunt Peggy.

 

The sweet memory made Sharon smile, even now when it was incredibly difficult to.

 

Her aunt, whom she had only met a few hours prior, joined the nearly empty kids’ table and reintroduced herself to a hesitant Sharon. She was in time out, after all. She wasn’t supposed to be talking to anyone.

 

But Aunt Peggy caught her interest. No other grown up had ever come to their table before, not if it didn’t involve some form of quality control. Aunt Peggy was different.

 

In that moment, Sharon had grown incredibly shy, leaving the both of them in an awkward situation (Aunt Peggy wasn’t exactly the best with kids – she tried, though). After her aunt made a comment about not liking peas either, Sharon, with a newfound burst of courage, blurted out what had been concerning her, taking Peggy by surprise.

 

Any other adult would have laughed, told her that she was being silly.

 

Not Aunt Peggy.

 

She listened.

 

She also reassured that everything would be all right – it was exactly what Sharon needed to hear.

 

From that moment on, that happened a lot as Sharon grew up and became closer to the aunt that would be her role model: she went to Aunt Peggy with her concerns because she knew Aunt Peggy would listen. Aunt Peggy would always tell her everything would be all right.

 

Santa Claus would find her, Sharon didn’t have to worry.

 

Then Sharon addressed her second concern: her parents hadn’t been fond of what she really wanted for Christmas. They had insisted she write something more appropriate in her letter – a Barbie doll, but she didn’t like them.

 

Aunt Peggy asked what she would have preferred. After Sharon revealed that she had actually wanted a very specific action figure, Aunt Peggy nodded and told her those five words:

 

Everything would be all right.

 

In the last few years, it was Sharon who had to tell her aunt that very important message.

 

When they were out for a cup of coffee and Peggy looked at her with a sense of confusion that instantly turned to concern. It was the first time since Sharon was five that her aunt had asked who she was. Peggy quickly snapped out of it.

 

It was the first sign that something was wrong.

 

But Sharon promised everything would be all right.

 

The rolls had turned.

 

When Sharon helped her move into the home, she told her aunt that this was for the best. Peggy agreed that everything would be all right.

 

After every visit and at the end of every phone call, Sharon told her aunt the same thing – the same message Sharon heard at the end of all their conversations.

 

Peggy began calling in the middle of the night, either unable to sleep or unaware of what time it actually was. Sharon didn’t mind, but what absolutely gutted her was the first time Aunt Peggy called, demanding to know who was on the other line. Why did she have this number? Who was this person?

 

Even then, Sharon said everything would be all right.

 

She repeated it to herself as she sat in her car in the parking lot of the home, after her first visit where Aunt Peggy didn’t recognize her – confused her for a nurse. Sharon played along instead of trying to remind her aunt of who she was. There was no need for the both of them to be upset.

 

Sharon had gotten use to tell herself those five words: everything will be all right.

 

Until that phone call.

 

She couldn’t bring herself to say it after she hung up with the nurse. Sharon couldn’t bring herself to say it after leaving the home, nor throughout the arrangements. She sure as hell couldn’t bring herself to say it this morning, through the funeral, or even now, alone in this room.

 

The stinging returned to her eyes.

 

Of course it did.

 

Still in her black gown, Sharon flopped back onto the bed, arms outstretched. She knew she would be more comfortable in a t-shirt and sweats, but she was too preoccupied with keeping herself calm.

 

She wasn’t exactly doing her best at it.

 

In this moment, this exact moment, Sharon did not want to be the one who had to utter that phrase. No, what Sharon wanted was that ‘Santa Claus’ from so many years ago, the one who made sure that along side that neatly wrapped box containing a doll that went untouched, there was also a… not so neatly wrapped box that held the Captain America action figure she had really wanted.

 

She wanted _her_.

 

She wanted Aunt Peggy to tell her, just one last time, that everything would really be all right.

 


End file.
